


to build a home

by lusterrdust



Series: where the heart is [2]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Romance, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: a series of oneshots in the universe of "lost and found" [domestic bughead]





	1. son of mine

**Author's Note:**

> i just couldn't keep away

 

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“It is not flesh and blood,_  
>  _but heart which makes us_  
>  _fathers and sons.”_  
>  _—Friedrich Schiller_
> 
> ◯

Jughead didn’t believe he could ever feel a pain worse than when Betty had ended things and left him and Riverdale behind all those years ago. He didn’t believe there would ever be words so cutting and heart-clenching as the ones she’d murmured through tears; _“I can’t be here anymore, Juggie. I can’t be with you.”_

Except, there _are_ words that cut worse.

_“You’re not even my real dad!”_

Truthfully, he hadn’t been expecting it. A simple argument with his eleven-year-old son, Jughead had been stunned into silence when Tobi had thrown the words at him after huffily hearing the punishment of no video games for a week for his low grades.

Jughead _knows_ Tobi loves him. His dark eyes and curly brown hair, sure, he doesn’t look a stitch like him, but Tobi is _his_. Hearing the brunt truth however from the boy himself, it cuts Jughead deep like a blade to his chest.

Like Betty, Tobi is highly empathetic and quick to realize his mistake. The moment the words tumble from his mouth, Jughead sees the way his eyes widen and his cheeks fill with color from shame. “Dad…”

“Put your controllers on mom’s desk.” Jughead orders, keeping his features together through the hurt. He then hurriedly turns around and walks toward his bedroom, shutting the door and leaning against it heavily while digging his fingers into his eyes.

He’s not going cry. He’s a thirty-six-year-old man, he will _not_ cry.

He hears shuffling from the hallway as Tobi’s footsteps pitter patter across wood floors. They walk up to his door and Jughead can practically feel the boy’s regret and need to apologize. He’s so much like Betty in that regard, it’s a trait Jughead is proud to see carried through him.

Jughead doesn’t cry, but the ache in his chest lingers up until Betty comes home with their two other children. She senses a disturbance immediately when walking into the bedroom before handing over their youngest daughter over to him.

“What’s wrong?” she questions without so much as a ‘hello’.

“What? Nothing.” Jughead furrows his brows, dipping his nose into the soft blonde curls of their two-year-old, Olive, and kissing her tresses as she clings to his shirt collar. “Hi, Ollie.”

Betty gives him a scrutinizing look, trying to decipher the truth before she reluctantly begins to explain her day after he prompts her to fill him in. “—also, I think we’re going to have to find a different daycare for Peanut and Ollie. Chelsea had a sign up that her prices were going to be raising next month.”

Jughead adds his thoughts noncommittedly as they walk out of their bedroom and into the kitchen where their six-year-old is at the table stuffing her mouth with cubes of cheese from her lunch pail. With darker hair and a hearty appetite, their daughter Pauline takes after Jughead the most. When she sees him, she scrambles off her seat and runs over to him.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, Peanut.” He smiles, crouching down to hug her as their little one cries out in protest in having to share the affection.

“Pauline,” Betty scolds lightly at seeing the mess on the table caused by messy eating. “Come tidy this up, sweetheart.”

When dinner’s cooked and served, Tobi gives Jughead guilty looks through the length of the meal, and when it’s finally time for bed, after the girls are down for the evening, he and Betty go to Tobi’s room to tuck him in before he blurts out an apology, tears in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it.” Tobi sniffs, rubbing his eye stubbornly and avoiding Betty’s questioning glance. “What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it, Dad.”

“Tobs,” Jughead grimaces, plopping himself onto the mattress as his wife lingers at the doorway. Tobi immediately moves forward and wraps him into a hug.

“I’m sorry.” He says through the fabric of his thermal shirt. “You _are_ my dad.”

Turning his head to Betty, Jughead gives her a soft look. “You mind giving us a minute, Betts?”

“Of course not.” Betty answers, unfolding her arms as she walks to Tobi and gives him a kiss goodnight. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too.”

“To the moon and back?” she pushes his unruly curls from his forehead and places another kiss to his forehead.

“And to heaven.” He replies, scrunching his nose when she gives one final kiss to his cheek. “ _Mom_ ,”

“Okay, okay.” Betty grins, glancing to Jughead and moving back to peck his own lips briefly. “See you in a few.”

When the door closes behind her, Jughead heaves a sigh and wraps his arm around Tobi’s shoulder. “Do you know _why_ mom and I give you punishments?”

“Because I screwed up on my grades?” Tobi frowns dejectedly.

“To teach a lesson.” Jughead corrects, watching Tobi nod his head as he listens. “If we stop caring about our responsibilities, we lose privileges, not just as kids but adults, too. When you work hard, you earn more privileges. I’m not taking your stuff away just to be a jerk.”

“…I didn’t mean it.” Tobi repeats after a moment of silence.

“It’s okay, bud.” Jughead assures him, though his heart is tugging painfully in his chest. “I’m not here to replace your real dad—“

“But you _are_ my real dad!” Tobi interrupts emphatically. Lip jutted out in a frustrated grimace, the boy regards him with pinched brows. “I know mom says she doesn’t want me to forget my real dad, but, _you’re_ my real dad, too. You’re the only dad I know—the best dad! And I just…I wanted to hurt your feelings because I was mad…I’m sorry.”

There’s a tightening in Jughead’s chest—except this time, it’s not from hurt. Such a gentle soul, Jughead sees Betty in everything Tobi does and says. “It’s okay, Tobi.” He tells him gently. “I said worse things to my dad when I was your age. People say things out of anger all the time, though that doesn’t make it okay.”

“I don’t want you to hate me now.” Tobi tells him worriedly as his eyes get covered in a glossy sheen.

“I could never hate you.” Jughead squeezes his shoulder, giving a reassuring curve to his lips. “You’re my boy.”

Despite recently disentangling himself from affectionate embraces and mushy heart to hearts because of his growing age, Tobi clings to Jughead like he’s four again and lets himself be comforted. “I love you, dad.”

Jughead rubs his back, feeling himself smile as the love for his family swells in his chest. “I love you too, Tobs.”

“To the moon and back?” Tobi questions quietly, his hair tickling Jughead’s neck before he chuckles and responds.

“And to heaven.”

 


	2. constellations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> so much fluff, you're going to get sick

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“I am like a falling star_  
>  _who has finally found her_  
>  _place next to another in_  
>  _a lovely constellation,_  
>  _where we will sparkle_  
>  _in the heavens forever.”_  
>  _—Amy Tan_
> 
> ◯

Betty doesn’t miss the luminescent scatter of stars in the sky; not really. Not when she has constellations in her bed—ones she can trace with her fingertips and leave trails of silent wishes upon with her lips.

Jughead is speckled with tiny moles over his body, and Betty finds herself mapping them out each night when they’re in bed. She lets her fingers drag over his bare skin after they make love, creating her own names for the markings on his skin and fighting back giggles at his amusement to her strange fascination with them.

“Look, this one’s a crown!” she grins against his shoulder, moving her hand down the bend of his chest as her fingers draw out a lazy pattern between six freckles on his skin.

Jughead snorts and combs his fingers through her tresses, moving them down to run along her neck until they trace the curve of her breast. His calloused thumb brushes the tip of her nipple until it pebbles under his touch and his other finger falls to roll it between the tips of them.

Betty sighs airily, letting her lashes flutter close as she succumbs to his ministrations. “Jughead,” she breathes, throwing her leg over his and pinching his chest until her fingers resume their work of mapping out his body.

They’re in their new home in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Her mother had finally been able to say goodbye to Riverdale and the ghosts lingering there, moving to Michigan to start her own business and be closer with family. Betty, for her part, realized that she, too, wanted to move from Riverdale. Not because she thought it a bad place to live anymore, but because she had finally been able to put her own demons to rest at her sister’s grave. After a long and deep discussion with Jughead, they’d both agreed to move.

Due to his royalties and the savings she’d accumulated since returning to her hometown after her ex-husband’s death, both Betty and Jughead had been able to move into a cozy three-bedroom home near the lake.

It hadn’t been hard for Jughead to find work at the local middle school as their librarian. His experience, as well as the effect he’d had over the Principal who recognized him and flustered at his presence, nearly gained him the open position on a silver platter.

For Betty, she finds work with her cousin Beatrice at _Reflection_ after pitching an idea to have the magazine feature a section about body positivity and health. It’s been four months since the move, and the world around her now seems so much less polluted. She feels like she can breathe easier, more freely.

Being in a larger city, Betty gets used to the stars being fewer in sight.

She’ll listen to Jughead explain the constellations some nights to Tobi and Pauline while they sit out in their backyard, the lights of nearby houseboats and moonlight’s glow leaving glimmering ripples to the waterfront. With Hotdog on her lap, Betty will listen to him talk about _Dorado_ and _Corvus_ , all the while imagining the ones she’s created on his skin.

“I’m naming this one Elizabeth.” She tells him, shimmying her leg into the crook of his own and finding a more comfortable position as she draws a triangle over three dots on his chest above his heart.

Jughead’s amused smile softens and he grabs her hand, stopping her movements with an arched brow. “Marking your territory?”

Betty hums teasingly and kisses the bruise near his collarbone. “With this here, I don’t think I need to.”

A low growl in his throat, Jughead flips her onto her back and smiles crookedly at the surprised squeak Betty lets out at the quick movement. She slaps a hand to her mouth and they both turn their heads to the crib at the far end of the bedroom, fearful the noise has woken up Pauline.

Jughead is tense above her as he holds his breath, praying their one-year-old is still sleeping soundly.

A moment passes in silence before he relaxes, moving down to capture Betty in a heated kiss that she responds to with equal fervor.

A cry pierces the room the moment Jughead slips his fingers inside her, and he drops his head in a defeated groan. Chuckling softly through both amusement and misfortune, Betty traces his jaw and leans up to peck his lips before slipping out of his embrace.

Pulling her fluffy peach robe on, she sees Jughead flop back against the mattress with a hand thrown over his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Juggie.” Betty rolls her eyes good-naturedly, walking over to the crib and lifting her daughter out. “Did we wake you, Pol?”

Peeking through the crook of his elbow, Jughead wants to dramatically retort a sarcastic reply, but the words get lost in the back of his throat at the vision of his daughter clutching her chubby arms around Betty’s neck with teary blue eyes. Heart melting, he sits back up and slips out of bed to pull his boxers on and a thin blue robe.

“She can’t possibly be hungry again.” He raises an amused brow, following them out of the room when Betty walks them into the kitchen.

Betty snorts and looks over her shoulder at him as he begins to prep a sippy cup of warm milk. “She’s a Jones. Are you really surprised?”  

The remark warms Jughead’s chest as he smiles to himself while continuing to fix up their midnight snack. When the click clack of nails on the hardwood alerts them of Hotdog padding down the hallway, he turns to see Tobi wandering behind the sheepdog, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Momma,” he mumbles through his drowsy state.

Betty gives an exasperated exhale, but the smile on her face is of fondness as she opens her free arm not holding their daughter. “What are you doing up, baby?”

Tobi slides against her side easily, looking over at his sister with a crinkled nose at the snot and tears she’s produced during her previous wailing. “She cries too much.”

Betty won’t admit it, but her daughter _is_ a crier. She’d gotten lucky with Tobi, as he’d been near angelic. She makes sure to constantly send texts and videos to FP, playfully accusing his and the Jones genes for her rowdy nature.

“Well, we’re obviously all awake now, thanks to Mommy and Peanut.” Jughead places the sippy cup in Pauline’s hands, ignoring Betty’s huff as he steps back toward the fridge. “Anyone up for pbj and bacon sandwiches?”

They slip out into their backyard a little while later with blankets and their food, huddling on the deck and looking out onto the lake and midnight sky. Pauline falls asleep on her in minutes, and Betty lowers her head to Jughead’s shoulder, listening to him explain _Hercules_ to a sleepy, but fascinated, Tobi.

Betty sighs contentedly as Jughead slips his hand into hers, writing something over the crescent-shaped scars in her palm with his finger.

_‘I love you.’_

She’s soon lulled to sleep by her husband’s soft voice.


	3. barbed wire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> it's currently four in the morning, please forgive errors
> 
> hope you all enjoy xoxo

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _“Experience is a brutal teacher,_   
>  _but you learn. My God, do you learn.”_   
>  _—C. S. Lewis_
> 
> ◯

They’ve been arguing all week. Tensions high, Betty blames being in her second trimester of her third pregnancy, but she knows that’s not the reason. Her turbulent emotions are the result of her mother’s phone call five days prior, informing her of her father’s prison release.

Betty doesn’t tell Jughead. He’s probably one of the few people who _would_ understand completely, but she just can’t bring herself to tell him. Her emotions are scattered, and she simply keeps the news to herself, letting it fester; that is, until the day before Hal’s release when she calls Veronica.

Now, three cities away, Betty’s sitting in the driver’s seat of her car, fingers clenched on the steering wheel as Veronica’s voice filters through the car’s speaker.

“Just take deep breaths, B.” her best friend tells her, inhaling deeply with her. At nine months pregnant herself, Veronica had spent the morning apologizing for not being able to go with her—her own body forced on bed rest by her physician. “It’s going to be okay. I know it looks intimidating, but they’re just walls and people.”

Betty licks her lips and wonders how on earth her mother had, against all protests, managed to get her agreeing to pick him up. It’s been years since she’s talked to her dad, and longer since she’s seen him. In the bottom of her bedroom nightstand, she has all the letters he’s sent her throughout the years, and she’s replied to a few of them, the last being about a year before she and Jughead married, the correspondence attached with a picture of Tobi.

“I can’t do this.” She mumbles.

“You _can_.” Veronica replies firmly.

When the call disconnects a few minutes later, Betty’s immobile in her seat, her eyes glued to the cement walls and barbed wired fences in front of her. She feels her daughter kick and releases a shaky breath before working up the nerve to get out of the car and walk to the entrance. As she steps closer to the glass lobby doors, however, panic seizes and immobilizes her.

She’s back in her car and dialing Jughead’s number in less than a minute.

Despite the fact they’re in the middle of some fight she can’t properly remember what about, he’s her anchor, and she needs him right now.

It rings and rings, and Betty’s just about to hang up when he answers.

“Hey, sorry, I just picked up Peanut from daycare. I’ll be home—“

“I’m in Reedsville.” She interrupts, thinly veiled panic in her voice as she hears him pause and digest her words.

“Wh—“

“My dad’s being released. Today, right now.” Betty rambles, digging her nails into the material of her steering wheel. “I—Jughead, I can’t do it. I can’t do it alone. I know I told my mom I could, but—“

“I’m on my way.”

It’s a little over an hour later when Jughead arrives, his truck pulling up beside her SUV. She slips out of the car and furrows her brow when Jughead pulls their sleeping four-year-old out of the narrow backseat.

“You brought Pol?” disproval in Betty’s voice, Jughead gives her an exasperated look as the shut of the car door stirs their daughter slightly.

“I told you I was on my way.”

“Well, yes, but—“

“We’re really going to argue about this? Right now?” Jughead cuts her off, a frown on his face as she purses her lips and refrains from huffing.

“And Tobi?”

“I already called my dad. They’re going to catch an early movie.”

Betty thins her lips and looks to the ground with a grimace as she nods curtly. He glances to the building before looking back at her. “Are you okay?”

Her sour mood falters at the concern in his tone, and her shoulders lose some of their tension. “No.” she admits, running her hands under her eyes to wipe the tears there. “I don’t know how, but my mom somehow convinced me to pick him up, and I just _can’t_ , Jughead.”

Jughead’s silent for a moment, his hands moving up to cradle Pauline’s neck as she remains open mouthed and sleeping against him. “We can leave right now if that’s what you want. We’ll call your dad a taxi and go our own way, if you’re sure you don’t want to see him.”

Betty licks her lips and feels her eyes begin to sting with hot tears again.

“But I don’t think you want that.” Jughead tells her softly, stepping forward and dropping a kiss to her forehead. “You miss your dad, I know you do.”

It’s almost to a fault how well Jughead knows her.

Despite her father’s faults and errors, he is still her dad, and Betty loves him. He’s only ever wanted the best for his family—though, his good intentions were far south of what was _best_ to happen.

She looks up at Jughead, their week’s worth of pent up frustrations and petty arguments no longer carrying a trace in her thoughts; “Come with me?”

He steadies their daughter on his one arm as his other moves down to catch Betty’s hand. Tilting his head toward the building, he gives it a squeeze. “Come on.”

It’s slightly intimidating as she steps through the entrance. There are guards positioned through certain corners of the lobby and transmissions of lingo she doesn’t quite understand before she’s told to have a seat and wait for her father to be brought out.

It’s fourteen minutes before Betty sees Hal.

He’s thinner than she remembers—more pale, and his hair peppered with gray. The wrinkles around his eyes have deepened, as well as the ones around his mouth when they’re pushed up in a smile; of which he is currently giving her, albeit being the slightest bit apprehensive.

“Betty.” He speaks, awed and reverent, as his voice forces her stomach to somersault and twist.

And like that, his voice, his appearance— _everything_ —brings the whirlwind of emotions she’s been experiencing for the better part of a week to come slamming into her at once. She clenches her hands over swollen belly and blinks back the moisture in her eyes. “Dad, hi.”

Hal’s eyes fall to her stomach, then over to Jughead and the little girl in his arms. He shuffles on his feet as his brows pinch with the restraint of keeping his own emotions in check. There’s a movement of him stepping forward and lifting his hand up—to hug or touch her, she’s not sure— before he thinks better of the gesture and lowers his arms to his sides.

“Hello, Jughead.” He gives a strained smile and nod of greeting as Jughead replies respectfully in turn before turning back to Betty.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” Hal tells her as she points to the large plastic property bag in his hand.

“Here, let me help—“ she tries to deflect, moving to grab the bag before Jughead steps forward and places a gentle hand on her stomach.

“Betts, I’ve got it.”

Her father looks between them both and lifts the bag up slightly. “I’ve got it. Not much to carry, really.” His eyes flicker over to Pauline, her tiny self still oblivious to the events taking place. “Besides, you’ve got your hands full.”

Betty licks her lips and feels a grip to her heart.

How many times had she gone over different aspects of her life being different? Her father wasn’t always estranged from her. She had been his sunshine once upon a time—the daughter who had shared his common interests of automobiles and sports…she remembers fishing trips and old western movies, just the two of them.

Betty remembers feeling proud, to be the daughter who could bond with Hal over things like that. Polly was the all-star daughter, of which Betty was grateful they managed to avoid the clichéd sibling rivalries, but still—part of her had always secretly been pleased that she connected more with her father than Polly.

She always envisioned her father tearing up at her wedding while he gave her away, or witnessing the look of pride only a grandparent knew how to give when holding their grandchild for the first time. Her father has missed those things. He’s missed milestones and two opportunities to walk her down the aisle. He’s missed her first two pregnancies and being there to call when her car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and she can’t reach anyone else.

She’s forgiven him, truly, she has; but Betty can’t help but feel part of the bitterness linger.

“Her name is Pauline.” Betty tells him, stepping closer to Jughead to rub her daughter’s back.

Hal looks like he wants to say something, his face contorted with what looks like pain and regret. When he speaks however, his voice is soft. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Betty agrees honestly, the tender affection she has for her child seeping through her anxieties and easing them. “She is.”

When they walk out to the parking lot, there’s a moment of silent communication between Jughead and Betty, the situation of the two vehicles presenting itself when Hal is directed to her SUV. Jughead furrows his brows and lowers his voice. “If you need me with you, I can call a tow truck—“

“No, no.” Betty interrupts him lightly, placing her hand on his shoulder and sighing. “I think…I think I need this. For closure, or… I don’t know. He and I need to talk.”

Jughead places a kiss on her lips tenderly and rubs a hand over her belly, smiling softly when a kick is felt from the baby within. “Peanut and I will be right behind you, okay?”

“Okay.” Her hands cover his own, pressing it down onto her stomach as she leans in for another kiss. “I’m sorry, again.” She sighs apologetically. “For this week, and calling you out here…”

“Hey,” Blue eyes soften at her, and she’s overwhelmed with the amount of love and understanding in Jughead’s gaze. “I’m not exactly winning any husband of the year awards myself, but you know you’re my top priority. We’re in this together, Betts.”  

Hastily, Betty wipes the tears from her eyes and leans into his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He replies as she leans over to kiss their daughter.

After going their separate ways, Betty feels her cheeks flush at her father’s pointed look as she starts up her car.

“He’s always been there, hasn’t he?” Hal asks, looking to the sideview mirror at Jughead’s truck behind them.

There doesn’t need to be any elaboration or detailed explanations as Betty answers honestly. “Always.”

Back on the road, there’s a few minutes of silence before her father speaks up. “Are you happy?”

Part of her wants to remain closed-lipped on the reply. Hal hasn’t earned these pieces of her life yet. 

But then, her eyes glance down to his hands as they rest on his lap, white knuckled and nails digging into his palms. She knows the panicked tick all too well, and it’s then she realizes he’s trying— _really_ trying. _Been_ trying. He’s been consistent in keeping in touch and apologizing throughout the years, but she’d been the one to keep the door closed. Her heart breaks just a little in the knowledge that not only had she been robbed of so many experiences, but he had as well.

So, with a deep breath in for the long drive ahead, Betty reaches over and grabs his hand, earning a startled but hopeful look from her father’s weary eyes. She gives a melancholy smile, small and filled with the hope they can one day mend all damaged pieces to their relationship.

“I am.” Betty answers quietly, feeling her throat close with emotion. “I’m really happy.”

Hal’s eyes cloud over as he looks down to their clasped hands, his free one moving up to enclose them in a sturdy grip. “That’s all I ever wanted for you, Elizabeth.” He whispers coarsely as her own eyes burn at the raw honesty in his words. “I hope you know that.”

A deep breath exhaled, the tears fall loose.

“I do, dad.” She tells him. “I do.”


End file.
